THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

Another update as promised. Angstville, here we go…

Hope you enjoy.

Much love,

Day

10.

Sherlock shoved his phone back in his pocket without replying, and dumped the feline on the couch as he walked down the hall to the bathroom and hesitantly knocked this time.

She had locked it this time, anyway.

"What?" He heard her call.

Molly smiled at the knock, thankful that he did not pick the lock to burst in like he did before.

"I have got to go," she heard him say.

Her heart sinks at the thought of him leaving, especially because he did not specify how long he would be away. She fell silent for a while and then tried to chirp her response as nonchalantly as possible. "Okay!"

Sherlock could sense something off in her voice. She was a terrible liar, well, at least to him. He then huffed aloud, "Molly, John's coming."

"Oh." He heard her say, it seemed to click in her head that it wasn't because he particularly wanted to. He couldn't be here when John Watson was.

It had never been said but that night when he was trapped in the closet while two of his friends were within reach was one hellish of an occurrence. He had to stop himself from bursting out of there and yelling, "I AM ALIVE, IDIOTS. STOP LOOKING SO DREADFUL."

Molly opened the door a little, fully expecting Sherlock to be gone already only he wasn't. "I'll be fine. I can handle another meeting with John, though shouldn't be too surprise. He did seem genuinely concerned."

"Well, he is John. He does care."

"And so do you." Molly mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ears.

Sherlock only nodded before pressing a kiss on her temple and leaving her there. She felt very cold. It was the draft, she concluded as she slipped back behind the door and let out a sigh.

Everything would be fine.

Sherlock left from her window and headed to the roof to hide. He figured he could not head anywhere else for long and he assured himself that there would not be another sniper on the lookout for him. He sat at the ledge, and then stood up abruptly when he looked down from the roof at the taxi pulling up at the front of Molly's apartment. He'd known for a fact that John cultivated the habit of looking up at the rooftop of buildings after his death, almost catching a glimpse of him at one point.

Molly greeted John with an awkward hug from inside, she had made a rush about getting dressed and then trying to straighten up a bit. There were a few items around the living room. She invited him in, making sure it was fine before going to grab the kettle that she had made a point of setting on the stove immediately after she had finished showering.

"How are you?"

She asked the man who was eyeing her carefully as if he thought she was going to break. Against her better judgment and all of the thoughts of remorse for what she was putting him through added on to the fact that he didn't know it. Or the overwhelming sadness she felt, she did cry.

John Watson was sure to pull her into his arms too and whisper, "I was wondering when you would feel again. I haven't seen you cry since the funeral. Last night was a bit strange. It's going to be okay, Molls." He mumbled as he let her weep into his arms not knowing that it wasn't just the events of the past night that had haunted her but the fact there was a man who was alive and probably lurking somewhere in the shadows around her building and he didn't know a single thing about it.

Molly tried her hardest not to look into John's eyes. She could feel her guilt eating her alive every time she chance upon his eyes, knowing that she played a part in the broken soul behind it. She pulled away from him as soon as she heard the kettle boiling, forced a smile convincing enough to lie (again) that she was fine and excused herself. Her hands were shaking as she poured the tea. John offered to help, but she could see the tremor still prominent in his hand and declined politely.

When she came back with the tea, handing it to him he asked a question. He held the cup in his palms not really planning on drinking it but accepting it. "Before everything, did Sherlock talk to you Molly or anything? He said he needed to do something on his own."

Molly's tried really hard not to seem surprised by John's inquiry but knew she had to give him an answer. The first thing that she thought of was the safest so she told him. "He did come to me but he didn't really say anything too important. He told me that he was sorry for making me feel like I didn't count to him but on the contrary that I did. He left immediately after that then the next thing I remember was his body being rolled into the morgue. He was trying to make amends, I suppose." Molly's eyes welled up with tears again and she excused herself to the bathroom. This was difficult because she had hidden a truth in there. She couldn't handle this. It hurt too much.

John was crying when Molly came out of the bathroom. His sobs were silent, but still painful to hear. She held him in her arms, allowing the both of them to dissolve into a crying mess.

It was an awful atmosphere, especially since just about half an hour ago, Sherlock shared a kiss with her at the exact same spot.

She pursed her lips tightly to stop herself from blurting out any information like how she usually does. She could not risk this.

Molly sat there in the arms of the best friend of a man who she really had mixed feeling about right now. She hated him for putting her in this position. She liked John and felt miserable about it. She wanted to find him – where ever he might have gone and smack him in the face but at the same time she wanted to embrace him. A true embrace and say "fix this immediately, I don't want to console another broken man unless it's you after he knocks you into next Tuesday."

Molly was pissed but she also felt an odd sense of calm falling over her as John wiped his face and laughed at himself for being "silly" as he called it. He was a grieving and that wasn't silly at all.

"He loved you more than anyone, I believe." She told him as he took up his cane again and she followed him to her door. Her eyes felt heavy and her heart ached all at the same time.

"Love, yeah that would be the biggest case of all for a man like him. I'll see you soon, Molly."

He nodded at her, throwing an arm around her once more before he stepped out. Molly smiled a little at that, sniffling as she embraced the comforts of the throw that she often kept laying across her couch.

She was through with today.

Molly was sitting on her couch with Toby on her lap when Sherlock came back into the house just a couple minutes after John left. Toby purred at the sunken man walking towards his owner then leaped away, as if he knew that he could pass the consoling to the human.

Molly was still trying to calm her emotions after John's departure, but his broken face kept recurring into her mind. Sherlock could feel her guilt alongside his ache.

"Things are so messed up at this point." Molly whispered to him.

Sherlock knew that no words would be able to quell any of the pain from the guilt that she was feeling. Nor would any action but he sat next to her and held her hand in both of his. Because he knew there was only one way to end her suffering and that wouldn't be a happy event for the either of them. He made a choice then as he pulled her in his arms, tucking his face into the crook of her neck and kissing her.

He'd have to go but it wouldn't be for nothing.

He'd return and everything would be okay again.

Wouldn't it?

Molly's emotion slowly calmed down after sitting wordlessly with Sherlock for almost an hour. She just sat with his arms sneaking its way around her, her heavy head on his chest.

She slowly pulled away and stood up, taking his hand like the night before to bring them both to bed. But he did not budge; he simply sat there with a regretful pair of eyes.

Molly's heart sank as she knew what was coming, he had this expression on his face far too many times for her not to. Yet this time it truly hurt. If this was any other man and he was leaving a woman to do only him and God knew what, she would probably have screamed and yelled and pleaded with him not to go. She knew him, she had told him and now he was going. So instead of crying though she really wanted to, and spoke a shaky word. "Okay," and nodded to him slightly.

He held onto her hand like it was some sort of lifeline and he stood up, towering over her. He leaned down, his eyes never leaving hers as he molded their lips together once again. This time much more intense and passionate. It was all he could do not to say the words actually - "I'm sorry." He knew that she knew this was his goodbye. It wasn't forever, just for a while longer.

When he pulled away leaving her with one more peck on the lips, he gave her a smile and then he was gone.

"Meow", Toby came from the side of the couch and slithered through his owner's legs purring at her. Trying to comfort his human. She picked him up, petting him as she whispered "I guess it's just us two again huh, buddy?"

There was a watery smile on her face but it was a smile nonetheless.